Black raven Eric Northman Oneshot
by Thranduillion
Summary: Eric Northman reflects on his life as he awaits the true death. (Inspired by a russian folk song of the same name)


Feral light pierced Eric's eyes as he adjusted his vision to judge his surroundings. Shifting his body against the uneven floor, he winced as the cool sting of the silver chains burnt into the flesh of his wrists.

It was still dark outside, but the first glows of the morning sun had made themselves visible to his enhanced sight. A quiet sigh scratched his already-parched throat as it escaped. The birds had yet to sing their morning song and the forest, thick above him, remained oddly still. Not even the leaves would dance in the wind for they knew the event to which they would bear witness.

The chains on his ankles were heavy, the heat coming strongly through the thin layer of denim that separated skin and metal. Closing his eyes, he slowly let his chest rise and fall as the deep scent of the forest surrounded him. This was an old ground, of that he was sure. He could tell that by sight alone as the trees rose far above him, grazing the dark sky with their fingertips, swaying quietly to the song of the morning in the cool summer wind.

He only wished he could smell the Norse sea instead.

If he let himself become lucid enough, he could almost be convinced that he was at home. As a child he had spent much time becoming acquainted with his native wilderness, stalking the trees, both aspen and birch, to locate the tell tale bite marks the beavers would have left. Dusk and dawn were the best times to catch them, he had found. He would sit, back against the trees, morning frost kissing his pink, youthful skin, and watch the small, furry mammals come to life as he reflected on his daily teachings.

Something above - what was that?

"Sookie?" he whispered, craning his neck in a painful attempt to isolate the source of the sound.

After a few silent seconds, he grunted as he relaxed back into the earth. She would not come for him now, there was too much between them for that. Too much unspoken and far too much said. He'd made a habit of that recently, for someone who hardly spoke he sure seemed to say too much.

He could still taste her sometimes, like the dream you keep on having but can never remember when you wake up. How was it possible to taste like sunlight? It wasn't even about her blood any more. It could be any part of her now, anything to keep the memory alive. Maybe it was the shine of her hair, the soft glimmer of the low moonlight reflected in her golden strands. The salt in her tears, too. Curious that bitterness would be so sweet. The clean perspiration that clung to her clothes, the warmth in her body underneath the coolness of his palms, the taste of her skin against his tongue.

It could be any part of her that still clung to his soul, refusing to let go.

Like climbing ivy claiming the crumbling walls of a derelict building, or a sheet of moss crawling over the damp bark of a fallen trunk.

Wait - there it was again, that noise.

His eyes bolted open as he attempted to shift his body and afford himself a better view. He arched his back and strained his biceps, grunting with the force of the motion, but the silver could not be budged. Releasing a breath of hot air into the coolness of the morning atmosphere, he relaxed again, his muscles screaming from the use of what little energy he had left. How revoltingly human.

Eric Northman was tired. Tired and hungry.

Again!

He could hear it more clearly this time and what little hope he had was quickly dashed as he trained his eyes to focus on the source of the noise. A blackbird sat perched on small branch above, rustling the morning dew from it's deep, black feathers.

"Are you a blackbird? No, more like a crow" he mused aloud, momentarily distracted as he peered intently at his new point of interest. As if in some response, the bird shot it's head up in his direction and let out a low, croaking sound that reverberated in the surrounding growth.

"No crow are you, I would call you a raven" Eric said slowly, but louder now.

The bird opened it's wings in a long, impressive display and swooped down from the high branches, catching the wind in it's pointed feathers, to circle a few meters above Eric's head.

"Ah, so Odin is waiting for me in Asgard. Are you Huginn or Muninn?" he asked, the corner of his lip tugging upwards in a solemn smile.

He briefly remembered the night he asked his father what would await him in the afterlife. His father had told him not to fear death for it would lead him to the realms of the God Odin. Chosen by Odin, half of those who died in combat travelled to Valhalla upon death, led by valkyries, while the other half were to go to the goddess Freyja's field Fólkvangr. Legends were shared of Odin's knowledge and power, some said that he held his eyes and ears in two spies, called Huginn and Muninn, that took the form of black ravens.

"Go then, black raven, you shall not take me yet" he instructed, his eyes trained on the bird "it is dark here still, you can return with the sun."

The pitch black raven flew back to sit on it's high perch and croaked at him intently from the leaves.

"Do not croak at me, raven, you will have your easy prey" Eric replied, turning to face to east landscapre instead. The sky above was still dark but he was no longer covered by the blanket of stars. The faint amber glow of the morning sunrise had begun it's ascent and he readied himself as the first, minuscule needle of light climbed onto the forest floor.

There wasn't much time left.

He faced away from the direction of the sunrise and looked down at the rise and fall of his chest. At least he was warm, not that he could really feel it, but the clothes gave him a strange form on human comfort in the face of his mortality. He flexed his shoulders as much as he could in the soft, familiar lining of his jacket. Sookie had picked it out, he remembered that. She'd even given him a silk pocket square to match, it was soaked in blood now.

The pocket square.

"Quick raven, come to me!" The bird look at him and cocked his head, seemingly unresgistering the urgency in his expression.

"Take it, in your beak" he urged "the square in my pocket."

A few seconds passed of Eric silently pleading with the bird and he was just about ready to give up as the bird swooped down and landed gently on his chest, it's claws poking through his shirt. Eric lifted his head as far off the ground as he could. He could make out his reflection now, in the droplets clinging to the raven's feathers. He could vaguely see the red that streaked his under eye.

"Take it raven, take it to Sookie. Tell her that she is free" he commanded.

The raven croaked, louder now, it's breath wrinkling Eric's nose.

Unsheathing his fangs, he hissed at the bird and as it took it's flight he dropped his head back to the earth. He tightened his eyes now, his breath quickening, as the taste of his own blood dripped into his open mouth. A million faces ran through his mind as he resigned to evaluate his long life.

Pam. Pam would be heartbroken, wherever she was. He just hoped that she wasn't in the same situation as him. Throughout their century together, she had proved time and time again that her devotion ran deeper than her progeny bond. He could never say that he cared for her more than Sookie, it just wasn't true. But, he didn't need to care for her. When there was a Pam there was a way. He was only grateful that she wasn't here to see him go.

And Sookie, sweet Sookie. So light and pure. More than he deserved, a million times over. He'd known that the minute he'd laid eyes on her. Tanned and blonde, dressed in florals. She was everything he was not and yet so, so much more. Pam adored him but it wasn't the same, it could never be the same. It was like Sookie saw something in him that no-one else could, even if she could read his mind, she wouldn't need to. Just one look could melt him and it was all far too easy. He'd never really deserved her but he'd been far more suitable than Bill.

Bill fucking Compton, bane of his life. Bill was probably the reason he was in this mess in the first place. That two-faced, snake mouthed, dead motherfucker. He would say anything, do anything and manipulate anyone to get what he wanted. And, although Eric was the same, he would never do that to Sookie. Not like Bill would. Not like Bill already had.

He'd told her of course, but she was just blinded by him. By the time she'd seen the truth for herself he hoped it wouldn't be too late.

Who would help her then?

Eric winced and as he felt the light sear his eyelids, he shut them even tighter, the crimson tears pooling down his cheeks and onto the forest floor below. The amber glow was sending a fierce heat along the surface of his open skin now and he knew that it wouldn't be long.

"Go raven, tell her that I am with the forest. Take my bloody pocket square and tell her she is free" he whispered, digging his nails into his skin as the forest came to life around him.

"Tell her I met a new love, under the tall oak."

The amber streaks of light grew brighter now, rising from the forest floor into the mid-heights of the thick, ancient trunks, peeking through the thatched layer of the undergrowth.

"Tell her we had a quiet wedding, in the presence of the forest."

If he couldn't feel it on his skin then he could smell it in his nostrils now, the unmistakable putrid scent of burning flesh, the deathly smoke rising through the clean, untainted air.

"Tell her that the sunrise was my matchmaker, the best man was a silver chain."

Somewhere in the distance a mother bird cried for her children as a plume of smoke erupted from the canopy, his skin was on fire, the muscles too wasted to clench now. He held his eyes shut for so long that without him realising, the light had disappeared. Tentatively, he opened one eyelid but there was no difference to be made, darkness still. He couldn't feel his fingers or hear anything around him. He tried to move, but it was no use.

But, there was something. Just one thing that he could recognise, in the back of his mind. Something familiar, something his heart had been longing for.

That smell, that fresh, clean, salty smell. Was that the scent of the Norse sea?

"Black raven, you'd better take me now. I'm all yours" he whispered, relaxing into the smell that surrounded him now.

Something else as well, too faint to notice. A kind of warmth, not from fire though. No, it was so completely specific. He'd known this sensation before, he felt like he'd known it his entire life.

Could he taste sunshine?


End file.
